Alchemisland

In a damp, dank, rank tenement

In my element

I’m hellsent, hellbound, hell bent on stamping out

Anyone else selling ground up brown on my stomping ground

I key nose spice

So good they accept a ridiculous price

They score, I get prizes like I hit the high score

Sort 20 guys one night

Like it was tournament format and I was a Pride fighter

My redeye spies tell me to vacate the high rise

I’m not too prideful to dump supplies

I’m not dumb enough to get caught tonight

After heeding early warning signs

They’ve probably got a warrant but this place

Once used for raves, is like a warren

I sprint down steps, each step kicks up bits of stone chips

I make it to an empty window, grab the lip of the lintel 

I grin, they had good intel but mine was better, veteran, so I win

Out the casement, shimmy down an escape pole and out onto the road

Alternately, if needed, I could’ve gone to the basement, down a hole

Go underground, use tunnels like a mole

Walls mouldy, smells like commodes in an old folk home

But I’m happy to take the old road if it gets me home without popo

Avoiding patrols but if you know you know

If you come for what I’ve stowed, bombs of petrol are getting thrown

I can reduce or boost the dose depending on your tolerance for dope

I have a line of dependents, weak, like the knees of boxers on the ropes

Their tendency affords me pendants and penthouse tenancy

They’re on wet flags waiting for bags, like passengers at arrivals

I go rasher at the stash house if it’s approached by a rival

I reach into the cupboard with the roaches and grab the rifle 

I hit the ground hard like a plane brought down by a spiteful pilot

I see sunrise, the one with Grenadine

Hair of the dog, a time-tested remedy 

I sense an ending but I’m riding until it’s empty

Big fuck off spliffs busts off, gets my head clear

Like I’m an explosive-handling grenadier

Shoot if I brandish, not just to provoke fear

Poke to make sure the dope is safe tucked in my rear

At this stage I consider my rectum a four seater

Spoon bottom black like someone left it on the heater

Have a perversely nice Merc, goes 0 to 100, goes berserk

But I swerve around in something beat up when I have to reup

In the passenger seat in a short skirt, something I can see up

She’s about to touch balls, like a caddy doing the tee up.